Mozambique - the coast

Tofo beach

Friday morning, I say farewell to a cheerful South African couple.  Paul and his wife are recently retired and have a good caravan laid out - they are planning to stay in Praia de Balive for a month.  I also say cheerio to a lovely German family, who like me are heading up the coast on their travels.  Last night around the camp fire, over a mug of tea, we swapped news and stories.  It's great meeting people like these whilst you travel; campsites are proving more friendly than hotels, and more peaceful than hostels.

Today's ride is a little plain.  I'm struggling to pick out the unique characteristics of the countryside.  I notice the sacks of charcoal, neatly stacked firewood, and bags of cashew nuts.  There are also many more people walking along the road - it's the only trunk route, so everyone uses it: for commuting, trading, hawking, squawking or simply playing football.

I foolishly skip a petrol stop and then start worrying about whether I have enough to reach my destination.  The alternative fill up places are spaced regularly, but the small towns take cash only and I'm trying to hang on to that.  As I exit one gas station I'm still doing mental arithmetic in my head and, distracted, speed through the designated limit....  at which point a policeman steps out ahead, brandishing his radar gun.  Damn.

Today, I can't find the enthusiasm (or excuses) to argue against the ticket.  It's not a big fine - £30 - but I'm annoyed at myself.  Aside from the obvious reasons for keeping to the limit, I had made it a personal challenge to do so and to avoid giving any opportunity to the law enforcers to extract big fines.   Lesson learnt, I continue again carefully for the rest of the days ride.

I take the branch road off towards Inhambane and pull into a small restaurant for a late lunch.  It's a picturesque scene - leaky old dhowes ply slowly across the harbour, sails silhoetted against the sparkling water.  Mangroves mark the edges of the shore and young kids play on the mud whilst their mothers winkle out crabs or some such from their hide-holes.

There's a fast internet cafe, too, which is a big relief as I've plenty to do.

With dusk falling I quickly stock up on some provisions, get cash from the ATM (yay!) and take directions for my beach side accommodation.  I'm going to have to hurry to beat the dark.

But I can't locate the campsite I was aiming for.  The end of the road is soft sand and eventually, 10km from the main turn off, I turn back - I'm getting tired and the bike is not liking the conditions either.

I take the main road to Tofo, figuring a night in the main backpackers would be a good decision - I can relocate later, if necessary.  In the beam of my headlights I pick up the reflective rears of several parked motorbikes, so at least I'll be in good company.  In fact, it's better than that: I bump in Dan and Mirjam, the very well-travelled Dutch couple that I last saw in Santiago, Chile.

Since Chile (back in February, I think), they have finished their tour of South America and covered great tracts of south Africa too - bits of Namibia, Botswana and also South Africa and Swaziland.   They're heading north back to Europe, like me, and we pass a happy couple of hours just chatting and catching up.  The respective merits of their two Honda African Twin motorbikes over my BMW r1200 GSA keeps us grinning - geeks when it comes to details like tyre performance, chains and shafts.

With the wind picking up and sand whipping around the tents everyone retreats for an early night.  "Oh, I meant to ask", says I, "I guess the beach isn't too far away, right?  Like, 5 minute walk or something?".

"You'll see in the morning", laughs Dan, "but I reckon 5 seconds is more like it".

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Sunrise is about 6am here, and I stumble out of my tent (a little later) to see the waves crashing on the shore just across the road.

Dan and I get some bread for breakfast, investigate scuba / snorkeling activities and continue where we left off in our discussions.

Two days pass with pleasing ease, marked only by the coming and going of dive boats, meal times and bike maintenance.

The wind is strong and the seas rough, so my first scuba dive is a little fraught - the fierce boat ride has the RIB slapping hard against the surf.  The dives here are deep (and therefore short), and it's only on Day 2 that I really see what I've come here for:  giant manta rays, flapping slowly along the reef.  During the 'decompression' period back on the surface, we search to locate and snorkel around some Whale Sharks - the gargantuan 20m fish patiently putting up with dozens of humans angling for a view.

But it's not to be.  We find some hump back whales, and hang around near them for a while, which is cool.  They're travelling fast, yet there's no frantic flashing of their tails as they out pace our boat. 

I'm a little disappointed to miss the whale sharks, but not so much so that I'm prepared to pay for a pure 'snorkelling' trip when I return to shore.  The seas are still very rough and I've had enough pitching about.  The elusive sharks remain on my bucket list for another time.  Win some, lose some.